The Specter of the Enterprise
by whoa nellie
Summary: While starring in a shipboard production of Webber's 'Phantom of the Opera,' Vash finds herself ensnared in a real life version of the libretto. Originally posted in April of 2001, this story has been edited to fit Fanfic's new guidelines.


Title: The Specter of the Enterprise 

Author: Whoa Nellie

Series: TNG 

Rating: R 

Codes: Picard / Vash 

Synopsis: While starring in a shipboard production of Webber's 'Phantom of the Opera,' Vash finds herself ensnared in a real life version of the libretto. This story takes place in Whoa Nellie's "Reasons of the Heart" timeline sometime after "The Answer." This story was originally posted to ASC on April 16, 2001

Author's note: Originally written with a NC-17 rating, this story has been revised and edited to a R rated story in order to conform with new guidelines. The NC-17 version of this story along with the complete collection of Picard/Vash romance stories can be found at Whoa Nellie's The Picard and Vash Romance Fan Fiction site. 

Suggested mood music: An original cast recording of Andrew Lloyd Webber's 'Phantom of the Opera.' 

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek. The Really Useful Group PLC owns Andrew Lloyd Webber's 'Phantom of the Opera.' However, blending the two was our idea. 

Feedback is always appreciated - posted or e-mail.

THE SPECTER OF THE ENTERPRISE

Captain Jean-Luc Picard walked down the corridors of Enterprise E toward the holodeck that the ship's drama troupe were using for rehearsals. His Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Beverly Crusher, who also directed the ship's drama troupe, had sent him a message that when he had a free moment she wanted to discuss the next production with him. As he stepped onto the holodeck, he found his fiancée, Archaeology Councilmember Vash standing on the stage at one end of the room. Casually dressed in a flowing blue dress, she was singing operatic scales, working her voice higher and higher in the soprano range. Comfortably settled on the large couch closest to the stage, Crusher was coaching her. As he watched the two of them from the back of the room, he suspected he was being set up for something. 

Crusher tapped a computer control pad next to the couch and music began playing, "Vash, try the last line of the song adding in the scales."

"But please promise me that some times you will think . . .ah -" Vash's lovely voice again climbed up the scales reaching a pinnacle with a flourish of music behind her. "Of me!" 

"Bravi, bravi, bravissimi," Picard quoted, impressed with her performance. As he moved toward them, he added, "Webber's 'Phantom of the Opera.' That is an ambitious undertaking, ladies." 

"That will make it all the sweeter when we pull it off," Beverly smiled up at him. 

Picking up a PADD from a nearby stool, Vash made her way off stage and toward Jean-Luc. She handed him the PADD as she explained, "We want to keep it as close to Webber's original vision as possible. We've decided to use the original set and costume designs." 

Hearing Vash's enthusiasm, Picard couldn't help but tease, "Since Her Majesty's Theatre and the Paris Opera House are both quite a distance away from here, just where were we planning to put on this lavish, little production?" 

"Well, getting the specifications right would take some time. If holodeck two were, say, designated exclusively for this production, we would be able to do a reasonable facsimile of the Paris Opera House for the performances and even be able to put in the catacombs below," Crusher suggested hopefully. 

"All right, Doctor. You may have holodeck two for the duration of this production," he agreed, still slightly wary. This was definitely a set up and that was far too simple of a request. Sitting down on the couch, he asked, "Do we have a cast yet?"

"As I'm sure you've realized, Vash will play Christine," Beverly began. 

"I gathered that much," Picard nodded. He noticed that his soon-to-be bride was hanging back for the moment allowing Beverly to answer his questions.

"So far, Reg Barclay will be playing Raoul. As funny as this sounds, he's really quite good on stage as a leading man. Data and Geordi will play the managers of the theater. Deanna will play the opera's primadonna Carlotta. Will has agreed to play the opera's star tenor Ubaldo Piangi. Robin Lefler will be the young ballerina Meg Giry and I will play the Mistress of the theater's ballet company, Madame Giry," Beverly informed him. 

"And our Phantom would be . . ." Picard prompted. He saw the look that the two women exchanged before they both turned to look at him. There it was, the set-up. Meeting the gaze of both women, he firmly stated, "No." 

"Jean-Luc, you promised you'd play one role in one production," Vash coaxed. 

Picard leaned back on the couch as Vash swooped in with emotional guns blazing, making huge doe-eyes at him and her voice softly coquettish. He remembered making the promise. It had been a social occasion, a dinner with the senior staff celebrating their engagement. Over a bottle of his family's finest vintage, three of the most beautiful women he'd ever met, Vash, Beverly, and Deanna Troi, flattered and sweet-talked him into agreeing to play one role. That night those three women didn't just turn his head, they wrenched it clean off his neck. He tugged at his uniform jacket and complained, "And this is the role you ladies have chosen for me to play - a horribly disfigured, mentally deranged, homicidal maniac?" 

"Now, Jean-Luc, that isn't what this role is and you know it," Vash chided gently. "This role is perfect for a man like you." She knelt down in front of him and trailed her hand down the front of his uniform jacket. "Webber's Phantom is one of the most powerfully seductive, enigmatic roles to ever be created for musical theater." 

Rising from the couch, Beverly went on stage and busied herself with tiding up a few things. It was now obvious to Picard that Vash had taken over the mission. He began, "I'm not a singer . . ." 

"You have the most incredibly sexy baritone voice," Vash gushed, cutting him off. 

"So you've said before, but . . ." he tried again. 

"The most important aspect of the Phantom's role is his commanding presence. His presence must be felt center stage during the entire performance. For the story to work, the sexual tension between Christine and the Phantom has to be almost palpable. He must have a raw masculine virility that is mesmerizing and a powerful voice that resonates with authority." Vash used her hands for added emphasis as she set the tone with a passion-laced bedroom voice. She circled behind the couch to lean over his shoulder. Brushing her fingertips along his strong jawline, she cooed softly, "You have that aura about you, Mon Capitaine, hard as lightning, soft as candlelight." 

Picard closed his eyes briefly as Vash ran her fingertips down over his face. His body responded ardently to her alluring voice. Evidently, her assignment was to seduce him into saying yes. And a damn fine job she was doing, too. 

As she continued around the other side of couch, Vash surreptitiously tapped the computer control padd cueing up a certain spot in the soundtrack. Pressing her advantage, she trailed her fingers over his broad shoulder and down his arm to clasp his hand in hers as she moved to kneel in front of him. Gazing up at him with an expression of pure adoration, she crooned sweetly in a low voice, "You alone can make my song take flight - help me make the music of the night."

Picard's eyes locked with Vash's in that seductive battle-of-the-wills that had been going on since the day they met. Trying to regain some measure of control over the situation, Picard looked across the room at Crusher, "Doctor, would you please tell your insolent little ingenue here that it is not good form to upstage the leading man with his own lines." 

"You'll do it?" Vash exclaimed jumping up. 

"I really didn't have much of a choice, now, did I?" Picard straightened his jacket as he stood up. 

"No," both women answered in unison. 

"At least you're honest about it," he sighed with gentle exasperation. "I can't believe I lose the girl to Reginald Barclay." 

"But you do get to kill Will," Beverly consoled him. 

"Fair enough," Picard chuckled. Heading out the door, he left the two of them to rejoice in their victory.

XXXXXXXX

In another universe, a mirror universe, Imperial Captain Jean-Luc Picard paced the length of his war-room on the ISS Enterprise like a caged jungle cat. The corded muscles of his well-defined chest and arms were displayed by his sleeveless uniform vest. The vest was made of a crimson metallic fabric with gold epaulettes that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. A ceremonial dagger hung from the woven-gold sash that belted the waist of the short vest. The tight black, uniform pants conformed to his body's every muscle as he moved through the room. As he passed by it, he picked up his glass of Aldebaran whiskey. Stopping in front of a tall oval window, he stared out at the system's pulsar star and idly swirled the green liquid around in the glass. The door behind him opened and his personal bodyguard stepped in. 

"Sir, Commander La Forge is here to see you," the hulking Bolian officer announced. 

"Thank you, Lieutenant," the captain replied. "Show him in and then wait outside." 

"Aye, sir." 

"I do not appreciate being kept waiting, Commander," the captain stated coldly as he regarded the reflection of his chief engineer in the window. 

"I apologize, sir. I wanted to be able to add the latest intelligence to my report," the engineer replied, doing his best to keep his voice even. 

"You've found her?" The captain turned to face his officer, everything else forgotten for the moment. 

"Yes. We've found another quantum reality where she is on the Enterprise. According to the information we've gathered from their own captain's logs, they will be spending the next three weeks in this system, at least their version of it, to study the pulsar," the engineer informed him, relieved that his earlier transgression seemed to be disregarded. 

"And the new transponder?" the captain set his drink aside on a nearby table.

"Finished, sir." The engineer handed his commanding officer a small medallion in the shape of an Imperial Fleet Parabola with a dagger through the center of it. "This device can create and control the location of a small quantum fissure between two realities. The fissure will be just large enough for someone to step through and will last only one minute each time. It will only work when tacheon emissions in the system are at the highest levels. With the pulsar in this system, you will have a one hour window every twelve hours in which to use the transponder." 

"What about detection?" the captain inquired, studying the device. 

"For whatever reason, the target vessel is running a very elaborate holoprogram of the Paris Opera House continuously in one of its holodecks. That will easily mask the transponder's energy signature," the engineer replied with a small smile. 

"You've done well, Commander. Let me know when we are ready to proceed. Dismissed," the captain remarked, very pleased as he sat down in his large desk chair. 

"Aye, sir," the engineer quickly retreated from the room. 

On holodeck two the intricate program recreating the Paris Opera House was up and running perfectly. In the theater's auditorium, Beverly Crusher stood center stage dressed in the black, austere, nineteenth century gown of her character Madame Giry. She mimicked her character's habitual practice of rapping her tall walking cane twice on the stage floor. The two resounding thumps echoed through the auditorium. "Okay, people. I want to try to get through the end of scene three and scene four in act one. If you're in the scene find your mark if not - find a seat in the audience." 

"Whoa, someone's getting a little too into their character's big prop," Geordi quipped from where he was checking the large, trick, mirror that was the centerpiece in Christine's dressing room scenery. He then made his way down to the seats. 

"I'd be careful, Geordi," Vash warned good-naturedly as she walked on stage. She slipped on the long, flowing white Victorian dressing gown her character wore over the sexy, glittery multi-colored 'Queen of Carthage' costume. "She is liable to stick that cane somewhere only she could extract it." 

"I had no idea you could be so tyrannical, Doctor," Picard noted dryly as he followed Vash on stage. In full costume as the Phantom, he wore nineteenth century evening wear; a black waistcoat with a crisp, white shirt and a perfectly tied, white linen cravat along with black breaches and shiny, leather boots. His sweeping, black cloak and the white mask that hid the right half of his face finished off the costume "Maybe we should hide that particular prop before your next duty shift on the bridge." 

"She'd never use it on the bridge, but sickbay is another matter," Ogawa teased. 

Crusher turned toward her head nurse, "Alyssa." 

"Is sitting down now," Ogawa laughed as she sat down next to Robin Lefler and the rest of the ballet troupe. 

Turning back to Picard, Crusher asked expectantly, "Would the Phantom find his mark, please?" 

"She could have at least pretended to be the tiniest bit intimidated by the costume," Picard mumbled as he made his way to stand hidden behind the large trick mirror on the dressing room set. 

"She has the big stick thing down pat. It's the speak softly part that's giving her trouble," Vash joked under her breath as she stood on her mark in front of the dressing room mirror. 

"Shhh!" Crusher hissed at her two leads. She made her way over to the wings to stand next to Barclay, who was now in costume as Raoul. "Cue the lights and music." 

As the Phantom, Picard's disembodied baritone reverberated through the auditorium, "Insolent boy! This slave of fashion basking in your glory! Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!"

At the sound of his voice, Vash turned toward the mirror. Her lovely voice was penitent as she sang out, "Angel! I hear you! Speak - I listen . . .stay by my side, Guide me! Angel, my soul was weak - forgive me . . . enter at last, Master." 

"Flattering child you shall know me, see why in shadows I hide! Look at your face in the mirror - I am there inside!" As he sang, Picard's character slowly became discernible in the mirror. 

"Angel of music! Guide and guardian! Grant to me your glory! Angel of music! Hide no longer! Come to me strange angel . . ." she called to him pleadingly. 

Raising a hand, Picard's Phantom beckoned to her, "I am your angel . . . Come to me: angel of music." 

Cloaked in the darkness of one of the theater's boxes, an outsider to this Enterprise--to this universe--watched with great interest as, on stage, Vash's Christine took the Phantom's hand and stepped through the mirror. 

On the main floor of the auditorium, Will Riker and Data slipped quietly into the seats next to Deanna Troi. When she did not even acknowledge their presence, Will whispered, "Dee . . ." 

"Shhh! This is my absolute favorite part of the whole play," Deanna hissed. On the stage, Vash stood toward the front of a boat with Picard's Phantom standing slightly behind her. The candles rising from the stage gave the illusion the boat was slowly gliding across a misty underground lake. 

"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came . . . that voice which calls to me and speaks my name . . ." Vash's Christine gazed forward, singing as if lost in reverie. "And do I dream again? For now I find the Phantom of the Opera is there- inside my mind . . . " 

Picard's Phantom closed the distance between them to stand right next to her. She was exquisite. The stage lighting combined with the diaphanous material of the Victorian dressing gown to silhouette her slender frame and long, shapely legs. "Sing once again with me our strange duet . . . My power over you grows stronger yet . . ." He tenderly cupped her chin to draw her gaze to him. His eyes drank in the features of her beautiful face with her lovely blue eyes, delicate cheekbones and rose petal lips. "And though you turn from me, to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera is there- inside your mind . . ." 

"Those who have seen your face draw back in fear . . ." She found herself riveted on the powerfully, masculine figure in front of her. Drawn by the sheer magnetism of the man before her, she reached up to gingerly brush her fingertips over his mask. "I am the mask you wear . . ." 

"It's me they hear . . ." His eyes never left hers as he tenderly took her hand from the mask. 

Her pulse raced from the passionate charge that passed between them and she glanced at her hand clasped in his. "Your spirit and my voice . . ." 

As he circled behind her, his voice joined hers, "In one combined: the Phantom of the Opera is there-" 

"Inside my mind . . ." Her head rolled back ever so slightly as she felt his large hands on her upper arms gently pulling her back into his embrace. 

Appearing as if he was whispering in her ear, he sang in a soft, rich baritone, "In all your fantasies you always knew that man and mystery . . ." 

Pulling away from his embrace and the intensity she felt, she turned to face him. Stepping backward, she stared into his steely grey eyes, "were both in you . . . " 

He quickly caught her small hands in his, preventing any further retreat as they sang together, "And in this labyrinth where night is blind, the Phantom of the Opera is there . . ." 

Unable to tear her gaze away from his, she finished on her own, "Inside my mind . . ." 

He let go of her hands and stepped back. His powerful baritone resonated with possessive pride as he spoke, "Sing my Angel of Music!" 

"He's there the Phantom of the Opera . . . " Appearing mesmerized, she gazed outward and began to sing up the musical scale. 

"Sing," he insisted softly as she continued to sing higher. "Sing for me."

At his urging, her lovely voice climbed higher and higher in the soprano range. 

"Sing my angel of music!" he commanded in a loud passionate voice. "Sing for Me!" 

With his final demand, her voice reached its pinnacle and the stage went black. 

Down in the auditorium seats, Riker looked toward Deanna and thought to her, 'Imzadi, I had no idea the Captain could act so well. Was it just me or did that seem real?' 

With a chuckle, Deanna thought back, 'Oh, it was real all right. I think I would consider it more role playing than acting, though.' 

'You mean as in . . . ?' he fumbled for the thought, astounded. 

'I mean as in you get the bandages, I'll be the young nurse and you be the injured World War I flying ace sexual role-playing,' Deanna teased him in his own head gleefully. 'And you actually thought the man needed a horga'hn.'

'I don't want to know,' he groaned inwardly. 

'Then don't play ask the empath, Imzadi,' she cooed back. 

As the lights came up, Beverly walked onstage toward her two leads. She handed Vash a glass of water and praised, "Perfect. That was absolutely perfect. Let's call it a night. We'll pick things back up tomorrow. I'd like to work on the mausoleum scene in act two." 

"Oh my!" Robin Lefler sighed appreciatively. Flopping back in her chair, she commented under her breath, "It's a good thing the doc decided to stop. If our sexy Phantom had sung 'Music of the Night,' I'd probably have had to change my tights." 

"Wouldn't we all," Lynne Marlon, a young ensign that worked in the bio labs, agreed conspiratorially. The rest of the 'ballet troupe' chuckled quietly as they nodded in agreement. 

"Uh, girls . . ." Alyssa hissed in warning, surreptitiously indicating with her thumb to where Commander Riker was sitting behind them. 

"I don't know what was said," shaking his head in bewilderment, Will Riker told the women as he stood up behind them. "And more importantly, I don't want to know what was said." 

Watching Riker and Data head up on stage toward the captain, Lefler shrugged her shoulders, "Ooops." 

As Riker and Data approached him, Picard noticed Data was holding a PADD. "Is there a problem Number One?" 

"No, sir; just a minor mystery," Riker replied. 

Data handed Picard the PADD as he explained, "Sensors are reading radiation spikes that are consistent with a quantum fissure. However, we can detect no quantum fissure in the area. Nor have we been able to determine a precise location for the source of the readings." 

Looking down at the PADD, Picard asked thoughtfully, "Could these radiation spikes be an attribute of the pulsar in the system?" 

"That is one of the hypotheses we are examining, sir," Data answered. 

"Very well. Keep me informed," Picard handed the PADD back to Data. 

Quite unable to help himself, Riker gave Picard a lopsided grin and remarked, "Nice mask." 

"Careful or the Phantom may be tempted to hang Piangi a few scenes too early," Picard retorted wryly. 

"You're enjoying yourself," Riker accused his C.O. good-naturedly. Seeing Picard's small smile peek out from behind the mask, he chuckled, "That's what I thought."

XXXXXXXX 

A short time later, after everyone had left, the holodeck was silent. Actually, not everyone had left. A lone figure stealthily made his way down from the darkness of one of the theater boxes to the stage. Imperial Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat down at the dressing table under the dimmed stage lights, the crimson metallic fabric and gold epaulettes of his uniform vest glinting coldly. He picked up a copy of the play's libretto off the table and began to read. Sounding pleased, he observed, "This will do nicely . . . very nicely indeed."

With the copy of libretto in hand, he began to make his way backstage. As he passed the large dressing mirror, he gave a small predatorial smile, "Soon kitten, soon it will be time for you to truly step through the looking glass." 

XXXXXXXX 

Still dressed in full costume, Vash cast a covetous glance at Jean-Luc as she preceded him into his quarters. The Victorian eveningwear emphasized his sleek build, the mask framing his intense grey eyes combined with his natural commanding presence created a compelling and seductive Phantom. She smiled contentedly. "I just knew you were perfect for this role." 

"What makes you say that, chere?" Picard asked as he followed her into the darkened quarters. He was about to call for the lights but decided against it. Starlight streamed in through the room's large bay windows bathing Vash's ivory skin and delicate silhouette in a soft glow. 

"Your performance was unbelievably sexy," she cooed as she turned to face him. Splaying her hands across his chest, she savored the feel of the hard muscular expanse beneath the silk material of his shirt. "You had the rapt attention of every woman in the theater." 

"Does that include the very lovely leading lady?" he teased softly. His own attention was drawn downward to where the deeply-scooped neckline of the ethereal dressing gown provided a striking contrast to the 'Queen of Carthage' costume's brightly-sequined bodice as it molded itself to her svelte frame. 

"Most definitely the leading lady's attention," she responded breathlessly as she stared up into his grey eyes. Slowly sliding her hands up his chest to his broad shoulders, she pressed herself against him, molding the soft curves of her body to his hard lean one. She could feel her breasts crushed against the muscular wall of his chest. Leaning into nibble on his neck just below his ear, she quoted in a low bedroom voice, " 'In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining.' " 

"Maybe we should get out of these costumes," Picard suggested in a voice that was huskier than it had been just a moment ago. He wrapped his arms around her as the soft caress of her lush lips against the sensitive skin of his neck played havoc with his senses. 

"As the Phantom . . ." she urged in a heated whisper, tenderly tugging on his earlobe with her teeth. "Take me as the Phantom." 

Behind the mask, an amused eyebrow shot up at the unexpected, albeit intriguing proposition. It wouldn't be the first time they had romped with costumes. A few delightful misadventures on the holodeck as Dixon Hill sprang to Picard's mind almost immediately. Of course, this little diversion had really begun halfway through rehearsal when they had first put their costumes on. Pulling back from her slightly, Picard effortlessly swept her up in his arms and carried her toward the bedroom. His deep, resonating voice took on a decidedly wolfish tone as he proclaimed, "Off to my lair." 

Much later and pleasantly sated as he gently cradled Vash in his arms, Picard's eyes were drawn to his rumpled cape on the bed beneath them. Then, he noticed her brightly sequined costume crumpled on the floor with buttons from his shirt strewn about. He gave a wry smile, "It would probably behoove both of us to replicate new costumes before Dr. Crusher finds out about this." 

"Oh well, so much for my mysterious and powerful stranger fantasy," Vash chuckled with a sigh as she stripped the mask from his face and tossed it over the side of the bed. Before he could respond, her hands cupped his head and pulled his face to hers. His lips were firm but pliant as she captured them in a deeply passionate kiss. Her tongue stole between his parted lips to ardently explore his mouth. 

"Power," he murmured to himself as he pulled back to break the kiss. Seeing her questioning expression, he elaborated, "It's the power you found exciting. That's what all this was about." 

Vash searched for an explanation. "It's not really the power. It's more about the commanding presence that men with power have. Strength and authority combined with wisdom and confidence is very erotic." 

"How is the Phantom such an erotic combination?" Picard asked, intrigued by the conversation. 

"He commands authority with his confident presence. He's a maestro of music. He is the ultimate in a man of power who has no real power in the universe," Vash explained. 

"Except for his power over you." 

"Christine," Vash corrected him. "She's drawn to his powerful, exotic presence." 

"But you empathize with her. You like this story because you relate to it," Picard pointed out. 

"Guilty as charged, mon capitaine." 

"I won't always be ton capitaine." 

"You're not powerful because you're captain of the Enterprise." Vash cupped his cheek and drew his gaze to hers. "You're captain of the Enterprise because you're powerful." 

"Yet, you still refuse to follow my orders," he muttered. 

"I said you were a powerful man, Jean-Luc. That hardly makes you equal to a woman," Vash flashed a Cheshire-cat grin as she gently pushed him onto his back. Rolling onto his chest, she lowered her head and brushed her lips against his, silently inviting her Phantom to an encore performance.

XXXXXXXX 

Late the next afternoon on holodeck two, Vash stood backstage at the Paris Opera House. Placing her hands on the hourglass curve between her waist and her hips, she checked her costume for the mausoleum scene in a mirror. As she swiveled from side to side assessing the look of the blue Victorian gown from several angles, the numerous layers of lace and satin rustled from beneath the full skirt. The long sleeves of the gown ended at her wrists in a flourish of white chantilly lace. The fitted bodice emphasized the full curves of her bustline and her tiny waist. With every breath, her décolletage flirted from behind a fan of lace that spanned the deep, square neckline of the gown. Noticing the generous amount of her cleavage that was spilling over the neckline of the gown, she used the age-old trick of leaning forward slightly and pulling up on the bodice to let gravity help her fall back into the gown. Hearing a nervous gulp behind her, Vash glanced up in the mirror to see that Reg Barclay had just stepped backstage and stopped dead in his tracks. She realized that from his angle the reflection in the mirror must have provided him with quite a view. Straightening back up, she turned around to face him. 

"I . . . I . . . I'm sorry. I didn't realize anyone would be here yet," Barclay stammered blushing. 

"Breathe Reg. It's all right," Vash reassured him with a gentle smile. She had always found Reg's bashfulness very endearing. "I wanted to go over some of the scene's choreography while wearing the costume. So, what brings you here so early?" 

"I came in to do a check on the skullhead staff the Captain uses to throw fireballs during the mausoleum scene," Barclay explained as he went over to retrieve the staff. 

"I can understand that. Especially since you're the one Jean-Luc will be throwing them at," Vash teased. 

"Don't remind me," he chuckled. 

"Well, go have fun with the pyrotechnics," Vash replied good-naturedly. "I can wait until you're finished. Besides, I still have to adjust some things on the cloak I wear over this during the scene." 

"It won't take me very long," he promised her as he headed out with the staff in hand. 

Vash watched as Reg left. While working with him in the ship's drama troupe, she had discovered, that once you got past his customary nervousness, he was actually very charming. Reaching into a rack of costumes, Vash took out her cloak. The heavy satin material was the same blue as her gown. Pulling on the cloak, she checked in the mirror to see if the garment needed any last minute alterations. As she studied her reflection, the sparkle of her most recent bauble caught her eye. Her platinum engagement ring had a one carat, flawless, white diamond with a quarter-carat white diamond on either side. With a tender smile, she gazed down at the ring, losing herself in the fire of the stones. Pulling herself out of her reverie, she turned to see Jean-Luc standing there in his full Phantom costume, except for the mask. 

Imperial Captain Jean-Luc Picard had been watching his enchanting quarry from the shadows for several minutes waiting for an opportune moment. Vash had always excited him in a way no other woman could. Stepping out of the darkness, he stood behind her. As she turned to face him and their eyes locked, he decided it was time to finally seize the pearl that had been denied him for so long. Moving toward her, he rumbled in a resonating baritone, "Vash." 

Reaching out with one arm, Jean-Luc entangled his hand in the hair at the back of Vash's head pulling her into a violently possessive kiss. Her head swam with the suddenness of the passionate onslaught as his tongue plunged past her parted lips, decisively staking claim to everything in its path. As his mouth took command of hers, his other arm wrapped around her waist, crushing her entire body against the hard length of his. She felt her pulse and breathing quicken. Even as a surge of arousal coursed over her, she realized something wasn't right. Physically it felt like Jean-Luc, however, perceptually something was very different. To begin with, Jean-Luc never man-handled her this way . . . except of course, when she told him to. With her small hands against his chest, she pushed back and finally managed to break off the kiss. Gasping for air, she ordered, "Computer, end holodeck Phantom character." 

"Rest assured, Kitten. I'm quite real," he chuckled indulgently as he traced an index finger down her delicate jaw line to cup her chin. 

"Who are you?" stunned confusion showed plainly in her tone and on her face. 

"Who do you think I am?" he taunted, amused at her reaction. 

"You're not my Jean-Luc. You are not the captain of this ship," she accused, attempting to push herself away from him. 

"No, I'm not the captain of this particular ship," he answered, as she finally managed to free herself from his embrace. 

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded again taking another step back from him. 

"I'm a reflection or maybe he's the reflection. I'll admit it's an interesting puzzle. One I'll be delighted to discuss with you at length, once we're gone." Sidestepping the issue, he reached out to take hold of her wrist. 

"I don't think so," Vash replied, narrowly avoiding his grasp. Her eyes never left the intruder as she quickly backed away and screamed, "Reg . . . Help me!" 

Barclay came racing around the corner. Coming to an abrupt halt, his voice faltered, "Cap . . . Captain?" 

Vash swiftly moved to stand behind Barclay, wanting to put a uniformed officer between herself and whoever this was. "That's not Jean-Luc. He's an imposter." 

"Computer, location of Captain Picard?" Barclay's voice went up slightly in pitch as he stared at the man who looked like his Captain. 

"Captain Picard is on the bridge," the computer responded. 

Beginning to advance on them, the impostor snapped in a firm command tone, "Step aside, Mr. Barclay. This is no concern of yours." 

It was now obvious to Barclay that this wasn't his captain. Vash was a civilian and as a Starfleet officer he had a duty to see to her safety. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the sword from his Masquerade scene costume leaning against the wall just within his reach. It wasn't a phaser but it would have to do. Snatching the sword, he held it in front of him and tried his best to keep his voice steady, "Don't come any closer." 

"As entertaining as that challenge is, I simply don't have the time," the Imperial Captain sneered, producing a phaser from beneath his cloak and firing it at Barclay. 

As Reg slumped to the floor in front of her, the intruder lunged seizing a shocked Vash. Quickly regaining her senses, Vash began to struggle against his hold. The last thing she was aware of was a hypospray being applied to her neck just before everything went black.

XXXXXXXX

Picard knelt next to Reg Barclay's unconscious form on the floor of the holodeck. Barclay began to stir, opening his eyes. With concern for his officer apparent in his voice, Picard laid a calming hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, Mr. Barclay. What happened?" 

"Imposter . . . imposter on board," Barclay muttered, bringing his hand up to his spinning head. Suddenly sitting up, he looked around frantically, "Where is she? Oh no, she's gone. He must have taken her. I'm sorry, Captain. I tried to stop him . . ." 

"Who took whom, Lieutenant?" Picard interrupted with forced patience. 

"You . . .well not you, because the computer said you were on the bridge . . .but it seemed to be you . . . but Vash said it wasn't you . . .the you that wasn't you stunned me with a phaser and now Vash is gone," Barclay stammered. 

"Captain, I found this lying near Professor Vash's script. It's addressed to you," Lieutenant Robin Lefler walked up behind Picard holding a small note.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Picard replied, standing up to take the offered note. 

"Captain?" Riker asked quietly as he watched his CO's face cloud over. 

"Do not fear for Mademoiselle Vash. Her Phantom has her under his wing. Make no attempt to find her," Picard read aloud before handing the note over for his first officer to examine. 

"A cross-over of some sort?" Lefler surmised out loud to herself. 

"An idea, Lieutenant?" Picard glanced over at the young officer. 

"Commander LaForge and a team of us in engineering have been analyzing the sensors readings of those radiation spikes from yesterday. We've been searching the system for a natural phenomena, such as a quantum fissure in the area, to explain the readings. But what if an artificial phenomena, like a kind of inter-dimensional transporter, created the spikes. It would explain why we haven't been able to find the source of the radiation. Reg said that his attacker appeared to be you," Lefler proposed. 

"You're suggesting that a version of myself from an undetermined alternate dimension has crossed over into our reality for the sole purpose of abducting Vash," Picard summarized, becoming increasingly concerned. 

"Yes, sir," the young woman nodded. 

"Why not just find his own reality's Vash," Riker asked, sounding incredulous.

"Maybe he can't have her . . . for whatever reason," Lefler replied. 

"Still, leaping from one dimension to another sounds a bit extreme," Riker observed. 

"Number One," Picard gestured for Riker to follow him as he stepped aside from everyone else. Quietly, he spoke to his first officer, "This may not be as an extreme idea as you think. Last year, when we worked with an Enterprise from an alternate universe to close the quantum fissure in the Ilecom system, my alternate informed me of a similar situation. A mirror version of myself crossed over into their reality and attempted to abduct that Vash." 

"You think Lieutenant Lefler may be right," Riker observed solemnly. 

"I think it is a distinct, not to mention very disturbing, possibility," the captain replied. Reaching up to rub his chin, he confided to his first officer, "And admittedly, I am prone to taking extreme actions concerning Vash, not the least of which was setting out to purposely create the same conditions in this quantum reality after seeing her and I together in that other alternate reality." 

"I saw it more as giving fate a captainly shove," Riker quipped. 

"That 'captainly shove' may have just caught the attention of a sinister, mirror image of myself," Picard said with a sigh. 

"I'm sure she'll be fine. In my opinion, you're both seriously outmatched by her," Riker responded with a reassuring smile. 

"Thank you, Number One . . . I think," Picard arched a bemused eyebrow. As they rejoined the others, he called out. "Computer, location of Councilmember Vash." 

"Councilmember Vash is on holodeck two," the computer answered. 

"Well, at least we know she is still onboard. But where on the holodeck exactly and for how long?" Riker remarked. "She could be just about anywhere. This program is a rather elaborate facsimile of the Paris Opera House, including the catacombs below." 

Holding his head, Barclay spoke excitedly, his words tumbling over themselves. "Captain, those unexplained radiation spikes occurred around twenty-four hours ago while tacheon emissions in the system were at the highest levels. With the pulsar in this system, you have a one hour period every twelve hours where tacheon emissions reach those levels. In theory, an inter-dimensional transporter would only work when tacheon emissions in the system are at the highest levels. Assuming Robin is right and we're dealing with a crossover, the imposter most likely has to use his inter-dimensional transporter in the next hour or so." 

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Picard replied, before ordering "Computer, end program . . ." There was no response. "Computer, exit." The arch and exit appeared. "Picard to security, intruder alert on holodeck two." 

"On our way, sir," came the quick response. 

"It seems our visitor has frozen the holodeck controls. It's a good bet the safety protocols have been disengaged too," Riker observed. 

"Agreed," Picard turned to Barclay and asked, "Mr. Barclay, how are you feeling?" 

"My head is clearing, sir," Barclay stood up and straightened his uniform. 

"Good," Picard nodded, pleased with his officer's response. "I want you and Miss Lefler to work on gaining access to the holodeck controls."

"Aye, sir," Barclay and Lefler headed over to the arch. 

"Number One, I'd like you to organize security personnel into search teams. And check with Dr. Crusher to see if anyone thought to map out these damned catacombs she insisted on including," Picard ordered. Picking up the sword Barclay had used earlier, he continued, "I'm going to see if I can find where our guest is hiding himself and Vash."

Hating the idea of his CO heading into a potentially dangerous situation without any backup, Riker began, "Captain . . ." 

"Your standard objection is duly noted, Will," Picard cut-off the complaint that he knew was forthcoming as he turned to walk away. 

At the arch, Reg Barclay and Robin Lefler worked to remove a coverplate. With a sly smile, Lefler remarked, "You tried to hold off a version of the Captain with a sword." 

"I had no idea the intruder had a phaser," Barclay huffed as he tugged on the slightly-stubborn coverplate finally removing it. 

"You were lucky he used a phaser. You do realize the captain is a champion fencer and expert swordsman," Robin chuckled as they began checking different isolinear chips. Hearing Barclay groan under his breath, she couldn't help herself and added, "I have it on very good authority that when Q placed the senior staff in a Robin Hood scenario, the captain ran Sir Guy of Gisborn through with a broadsword during a duel over Vash." 

Overhearing Lefler's comment as he walked by them, Picard groaned inwardly. He knew exactly the source of the information - his beloved bride-to-be. This was the story Vash relished retelling whenever she wished to illustrate that he had performed a few rather grandiose gestures while pursuing her. She seemed to forget the real threats, such as Sovak, the Vorgons, Q, or more recently the Romulans. Sounding weary, he attempted to set the record straight. "Lieutenant, Sir Guy of Gisborn was a character created by Q. He wasn't real."

"Aye, sir," Lefler replied. Watching him disappear toward the entrance to the catacombs, she grinned impishly, "Whatever you say, Captain."

XXXXXXXX

Reaching the lair he had created deep in the catacombs, Imperial Captain Jean-Luc Picard laid Vash's unconscious form down on the bed and paused to study his charming prize. Still wrapped in the cocoon of the silk cloak, her dark hair perfectly framed her delicate features and her rose-petal lips. Eager to admire this treasure thoroughly, he reached down to undo the cloak's clasp before impatiently pulling the heavy silk material aside. The hourglass lines of the gown emphasized the perfect curves of her feminine silhouette. His steely gaze greedily pursued his fingertips as he brushed them past her smooth cheek to trail down the graceful arch of her neck. His fingertips followed the plunging neckline of the gown tracing the swell of her breasts. Mesmerized, he leaned down to claim her full, red lips. As his mouth hovered bare inches from his prize, the computer sounded a warning demanding his attention. Reluctantly pulling back, he made his way over to his computer console with a muttered, "Forgive me, Kitten. I must tend to business." 

"It seems your friends are trying to override the computer lockouts I've put in place. I doubt they will be successful. However, I do have to finish preparing a welcome for your would-be-hero. He seems determined to ignore my warning," the Imperial captain remarked placing his phaser on the console as he studied the readouts. He began to tap on a few of the controls. 

Slowly rising to consciousness, the first thing Vash noticed was how heavy and sluggish her muscles seemed. She must have been given some type of tranquilizer. She could tell she was still in her costume, laying on soft bedding. With what felt like an inordinate effort, she forced herself to open her eyes and surveyed her surroundings. Glancing around, she found herself in a recreation of the Phantom's cave-like lair as described in the play. Just beyond the only exit to the cave lay the edge of the Paris Opera house's famous underground lake. Vash realized she was still on the holodeck deep in the catacombs they had created below the theater simulation. She spotted the one difference between this lair and the one described in the play. Instead of the massive pipe organ described in the play, there was a large, semi-circular computer control console. Intently working behind the console, the impostor was no longer dressed as the Phantom but was now dressed in some sort of uniform. At least, Vash assumed it was a uniform. It was a provocative cross between a Starfleet officer's uniform and a desert chieftain's costume from a romance novel. The sculpted muscles of his well-defined chest and arms were powerfully evident in the sleeveless, crimson vest with its deep V neckline. The gold epaulettes, along with the some version of a Starfleet Parabola and rank insignia, emphasized his broad shoulders. At the moment the intruder seemed to be completely focused on the computer console. Since she was still on the holodeck of the Enterprise, she decided try an escape. There were plenty of places she could hide in the elaborate labyrinth of the catacombs while waiting for help to arrive. Silently, Vash slipped off the bed. Her legs were unable to hold her weight and her knees buckled under her. He was there instantly, sweeping her up into his arms. 

"Careful, kitten. It may take a little while longer for the sedative to completely wear off," the Imperial captain chuckled. As he effortlessly lifted her slender frame, the gown's many layers of lace and satin spilled over his arms. "I hope you slept well." 

Instinctively, Vash's arms encircled his neck as he held her in his muscular arms. She was startled by the familiarity of his clean, masculine scent and his voice's resonating baritone. She was beginning to realize that this was no mere impostor. As he laid her down on the bed, she pulled back and eyed him warily, "Exactly who are you?" 

"Imperial Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the ISS Enterprise," he replied casually, watching her expression as she began to put the pieces together. 

Vash sat up, her eyes widening slightly from the impact of his words. She knew Jean-Luc had dealt with parallel universes before. There was also the issue of the unusual radiation spikes detected by the ship's sensors. It would explain why the two men were physically identical. Both of these men would be genetically Jean-Luc Picard, with the same sleek, muscular build, the same handsome, chiseled features, the same penetrating, grey eyes, and the same masterful voice. Vash's gaze fell on the ceremonial dagger that hung from the gold-woven sash around his waist. His very Machiavellian appearance and raw animal magnetism intrigued her at the same time that it unsettled her. She fought to ignore the nervous fluttering in the pit of her stomach and keep her voice steady, "Why have you crossed over into this universe?" 

"I've come for you." Sitting down on the bed facing her, he reached out with one hand to run his fingers through her silky hair. 

"You don't even know me," she insisted, flustered by an intimate action her own Jean-Luc performed quite frequently. 

"Quite the opposite, Vash. I know everything about you. You're a sensual woman who appreciates indulgence." He lightly ran his index finger over her full lips. "You enjoy a rare bordeaux with dinner as well as a fine chocolate afterward." He delighted in the heated blush sweeping up her ivory skin from beneath the neckline of her gown. "You revel in the feel of rich satin lingerie against your skin after basking in a long bath." 

Vash could rationalize how he knew what he was saying about her. After all, many women probably enjoyed those things; however, the uncanny way he knew exactly how to touch her was something else completely. The soft brush of his finger over her lips felt like a lightning strike, causing a shiver to race through her. Nudging her hair aside, he leaned in to nuzzle the delicate skin of her neck. She inhaled sharply as his mouth found the pulse point just below her ear. 

"This spot drives you to distraction. Doesn't it, Kitten? You always wear the same hauntingly seductive, not to mention lavishly expensive, perfume," the Imperial captain whispered against the curve of her neck savoring her sweet scent. He pulled back to stare into her lovely face, his eyes lingering on her lush inviting lips. 

For a long moment, Vash was held by his gaze, unable to resist his smoldering grey eyes and the firm set of his mouth. She felt her pulse speed up at the thought of those lips on hers. Her senses overwhelmed by the passionate charge between them, she retreated using the only route open to her. Breaking off her gaze, she laid down, shrinking back into the bedding. 

"You're my life's most delightful challenge, full of bravado one minute, coquettish the next," he chuckled low in his throat. Capturing both of her small wrists in his hands, he pinned them above her head. He lowered himself onto her, covering her small body with his long, muscular form. "It seems that our little lascivious cat and mouse games quite often end up in this particular position. Don't they, Kitten? You insist on teasing and tempting me until I have no choice but to demand total surrender from you. Is it my power over you or yours over me that you find so exhilarating?" 

Every breath Vash took forced her breasts up against the wall of his chest as the hard length of his body pressed her down into the bedding. She knew the truthful answer to that question was 'both.' There was no denying the fact that she enjoyed pushing the limits of the legendary Picard self-control. 

"I found the opera you were working on fascinating. The beautiful heroine, torn between the gallant Raul and the much more powerful, enigmatic Phantom, it really doesn't suit you, my dear. You're not uncertain at all. You know exactly what you want. You don't want a Raul. You want a Phantom. You want a man with the strength and commanding presence to wield authority absolutely. You want to experience his power while abandoning yourself to him," he asserted in a deep, resonating whisper as he stared down into her vivid, blue eyes. "I am a Phantom, Vash." 

A highly-charged, erotic thrill coursed over her at the illicit thought of succumbing to the desires of this pirate version of Jean-Luc Picard. As she tried to banish the image of those strong, knowing hands roaming over her body, Vash decided that somebody somewhere wasn't playing fair. The idea was incredibly erotic, but somehow she knew that the reality could only be bad. A thunderous crash reverberated through the cave as a formidable portcullis plunged to the ground, closing off the only exit. 

"Damn," the Imperial Captain grumbled at the interruption. He glanced down at the beautiful woman beneath him and watched as the full curves of her breasts rose and fell, threatening to escape the low neckline of her gown with each trembling breath. He lifted himself off of her. "It seems your hero has reached one of the last few proximity detectors and should be here soon." 

Vash eyed him suspiciously as he made his way back over to the computer control console. Flushed, her breathing shallow, and her heart pounding, she sat up and tried to calm herself. The awareness that her own Jean-Luc was on his way helped. However, it also lead her to a unsettling question. "What about my counterpart in your universe?" 

"Murdered. Those responsible paid dearly for taking her from me." His expression became as hard and cold as stone as he worked the controls. Looking up, his eyes hungrily trailed over every curve of her feminine silhouette. He gave her a small predatorial smile. "As a Captain's woman you will be draped with the most opulent silks and satins while adorned with the rarest of jewels. You will want for nothing, enjoying all the spoils of war my campaigns can provide."

"All this to simply replace a missing member of your harem?" 

"Although I understand men of my station often indulge in such extravagances, I've never seen a need to bother with a harem," he chuckled as he finished at the computer console. "All I've ever required was you, my treasured concubine." 

"I find it hard to believe you went to all this trouble just have a version of me in your bed again,"Vash sounded incredulous as she watched him slowly advanced toward her. Stopping to stand just in front of her, he reached down and took her hand. 

"You're a most desirable woman, Vash. A beautiful, blue-eyed, brunette with perfect curves, long legs and a razor sharp wit. You have a voice as alluring as a Siren and you move with the seductive grace of a cat. You have left your claw marks on me more than once, my Kitten. You are a timeless prize, Vash. Since time immemorial, men have gone to war over women like you," he replied in a tone of possessive pride as he brought her hand up to his face. 

Vash took in a ragged breath as he pressed his mouth against the delicate skin on the underside of her wrist in an open mouth kiss. A heated surge of arousal washed over her as his tongue flicked against the pulse point on her wrist. 

"Wouldn't you agree, Captain?" the Imperial captain growled triumphantly, sounding like a pleased lion. 

From the other side of the portcullis, Picard watched as this nefarious reflection of himself attempted to inveigle Vash. "Release her." 

"Jean-Luc!" Vash jerked her hand back as she spun toward the sound of his voice. Sliding off the opposite side of the bed, she dashed to the massive iron gate. Reaching through the metal bars, she slipped her hand into Jean-Luc's. "Reg Barclay?" 

"He's fine. Only stunned," Picard gently assured her with a slight squeeze of her hand. His voice resonated with authority as he addressed his adversary. "Surrender, Captain. My people are quickly countermanding your computer lockouts and security will be here shortly." 

"You're powerless to stop me. All I have to do is activate this transponder and open the door to my universe." The mirror Picard gestured to his chest and the small medallion in the shape of a Starfleet Parabola with a dagger through it. "I step through it with her, and we are beyond your reach forever." 

"Release her," Picard forcefully repeated the command. "You can't win her love by making her your prisoner." 

"Your Raoul makes a valid point. It should be your choice," the Imperial Captain confessed with feigned civility to Vash as he started toward them. 

The portcullis slowly began to rise, forcing Vash to take several steps back. It was only as Jean-Luc began to move toward her that she realized the dreadful parallel taking shape. "Jean-Luc, no!" 

Her warning came too late. Out of thin air, a Punjab lasso materialized around Picard's neck raising him until he was on tiptoe. The sword in his hand dropped to the ground. The other Picard reached the weapon before Vash, heaving it out into the underground lake. 

"Vash, run!" Picard urged, holding on to the noose with both hands to help support his weight. 

"Come with me as my concubine. Buy his life with your own. Refuse me, and you send him to his death," the Imperial captain spoke in a smooth baritone as his gaze coursed over her. "It is your choice."

Vash closed her eyes, mentally resigning herself to a life of slavery as this man's demimondaine. She knew she couldn't live with herself if her freedom cost Jean-Luc his life and she wouldn't risk him being hung to death before security arrived. 

"Vash, this is a starship and I am ordering you to run!" Picard commanded. 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Captain. Whatever happened to it being her choice," the Imperial Captain taunted his counterpart. Addressing Vash, he continued, "So, do you spend your nights with me or do you send him to his grave?" 

Looking over at Jean-Luc, Vash murmured, "Mea culpa." 

Picard couldn't fathom why she would believe any of this was her fault. However, as his eyes locked with hers, he knew exactly what she was about to do. With it becoming harder and harder for him to support his weight, he could only gasp, "Vash, don't." 

"Forgive me," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she blinked back a tear. Taking a deep breath, Vash squared her shoulders and turned to face the Imperial Captain. She forced herself to meet his gaze and steady her voice, "I have no choice but to accept your terms, my life for his. Spare him and I will become your concubine." 

"His ring, give it to me," the mirror Picard commanded holding his hand out. 

Wordlessly pulling off her engagement ring, Vash handed it to him. 

"Your only chains will be mine and mine alone," he snarled as he hurled the ring into the lake. 

"My body and my body alone will be yours. You will never have my heart," Vash cynically echoed his own words back to him. 

The mirror Picard leeringly appraised her from head to toe. "That is all I want. Come here." 

As she looked down to steel herself, Vash noticed the glint of the dagger in his belt. Aware of the audacious amount of décolletage spilling over her gown's neckline, she sauntered towards him with an almost stripper-strut to her gait, ensuring him an enticing view. Reaching up, she splayed her small hands across the expanse of his chest and slowly slid them up to his shoulders. She pressed herself against him molding the soft curves of her body to his hard lean one. "Well then, it seems we understand each other." 

"Indeed we do," he responded roughly as his powerful arms encircled her waist forcing her supple curves even tighter against him. His mouth descended on hers in a bruising, punishing kiss. His tongue plundered the depths of her mouth, decisively staking claim to everything in its path. 

Vash heard a growl low in his throat as she seductively arched herself against him. As his tongue continued to ravage her mouth, she stroked one hand down his chest while her other hand went to his waist to palm the dagger. Breaking the kiss, she shoved him back and pressed the dagger to his inseam. 

"No games, kitten. With a single command I can kill him right in front of your eyes," he hissed at her. 

"No game. With a flick of my wrist, I can change you from a stallion to a gelding," Vash leveled her gaze at him in a no-nonsense challenge. 

Shouts and footsteps alerted them to the imminent arrival of the backup Jean-Luc had referred to. Vash quickly moved back, pointed the transponder that she had also palmed during the kiss and activated it. Waving the dagger towards the portal opening, she gritted out through clenched teeth. "If you value your life, be elsewhere." 

As her betrayal sunk in, the mirror Picard opened his mouth to speak the command that would end Jean-Luc's life. 

Vash watched in horror, unable to stop him. Just then, a phaser bolt struck the lasso, releasing her Jean-Luc from the threat. 

As the security team, led by Riker himself, charged into the lair, the Imperial Captain looked back at Vash. 

Quickly, she threw the transponder to the floor grinding it beneath her heel. 

The portal began to close with the destruction of the transponder, "Someday, Kitten, somewhere, some world, I will possess you again." With those ominous words, he leapt into the vanishing doorway, disappearing from sight. 

"Captain, are you two all right," Riker asked anxiously. 

"Yes. Thank you, Number One," Picard responded distractedly as he slipped the noose off and handed it to his first officer. At the moment, he was torn. Part of him was overwhelmed with relief that Vash was standing there safe and sound. Part of him was furious at her for ignoring his order and endangering herself to save him. Purposefully, he stalked over to her. 

Still holding the dagger, Vash stood watching Jean-Luc approach. "You're angry with me." 

"I ordered you to run," he replied in a stern command voice. 

She shrugged her shoulders, "You've known from the very beginning that I don't follow orders." 

"And that you have a propensity for sharp objects," his tone softened as he gingerly plucked the dagger from her hand. He noticed that she seemed subdued and added, "It's been a rather trying day for everyone involved." He trailed a finger along her cheek. "Stop by Sickbay and let Beverly check you out. We'll talk later." 

"All right," she nodded with a sigh. 

"I won't be long, chere," Picard promised taking her left hand and brushing a tender kiss across the back of it. For a brief moment, he watched her make her way toward the lair's exit. He tugged on his jacket and his voice became all business. "Number One, Mr. Data, Mr. LaForge, over here please." 

"Yes, sir," came the chorus as all three officers stepped toward him. Geordi bent down to pick up the pieces of the broken transponder. 

Handing the dagger to Data, Picard ordered, "I want a detailed analysis of this weapon, temporal signatures, quantum signatures, and anything else you think may be pertinent." 

"Aye, sir," Data replied as he examined the dagger. 

Picard turned to his chief engineer. "Geordi, find out how the transponder works and a way other than the high heel method to shut it down." 

"Aye, sir," Geordi answered, already mentally trying to reconstruct the pieces. 

"Number One, I want a thorough analysis of all sensor readings for the past thirty-six hours. Also, get a team working on detecting future occurrences of this phenomenon." 

"You think he might try again, sir?" Riker asked, glancing around the cave. 

"He knows she's here," Picard replied gravely. 

XXXXXXXX 

"Captain!" 

Stopping in the corridor just short of his quarters, Picard turned to see a winded Reginald Barclay rushing up to him. "Yes, Lieutenant?" 

"I've been trying to catch up with you, sir. We . . . Commander LaForge just managed to get the holodeck program shut down a little while ago. We're getting the original parameters restored for the play. I . . . I found this on the floor." Barclay held up Vash's engagement ring. "I just thought . . .well, I thought you might like to return it to Professor Vash." 

"Yes. Of course," Picard replied as he took the ring. Pausing for a moment, he added, "And thank you, Reginald." 

"You're welcome, sir," Barclay watched Picard disappear into his quarters before he headed back down to engineering. 

XXXXXXXX 

Still in costume, Vash sat forlornly with her legs tucked up under her on the couch in the Captain's quarters as she considered the events of the last few hours. Gazing out at the stars, she absently rubbed the ring finger on her left hand. She missed the comforting presence of her engagement ring. Even though it had been under duress, she was still distressed over having taken her ring off and giving it to the other Picard. Jean-Luc had not even mentioned her ring when he had kissed her hand. Of course, he probably had a thousand other things on his mind not the least of which being a severe breach in ship security. Hearing the door, she turned to see Jean-Luc enter the quarters. For a long moment, they silently regarded each other. 

"You haven't changed out of your costume," Picard said finally as he walked over to stand in front of his desk. 

"I just haven't gotten that far yet," she sighed, gauging his expression. "You're still angry." 

Crossing his arms across his chest, he told her, "You should have run." 

"I wasn't going to let you die! If our roles had been reversed you would have done the same thing. There have been occasions where you were willing to sacrifice yourself for me," Vash argued defiantly. 

"That's different," Picard declared flatly. 

"How? If I were one of your officers . . . " 

"You're not one of my officers. You're going to be my wife!" Picard exploded, his voice thundering through the quarters. "And in an emergency situation, where there is an escape route, you are to take it! Is that clear?" 

"Crystal, Captain," Vash snapped peevishly, tossing off an ancient military salute in sarcastic fashion. 

"Merde," he huffed in response. Closing his eyes, he wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose as he reined in his anger. He knew the last few minutes had been a colossal waste of breath and that they would undoubtedly have this argument many more times in the future. He opened his eyes to find Vash had retreated to looking back out the window. There were something else bothering her. He gentled his tone, "What did Beverly have to say?" 

"She said I'll be fine. I was given a common tranquilizer and it should be completely out of my system by tomorrow morning. She wants to see me tomorrow afternoon just to make sure," Vash replied as she watched the stars. 

"Good," Picard answered, relieved. Thoughtfully, he offered, "There are a plethora of reasons why contact between alternate realities is prohibited, except in rare instances. Finding oneself faced with individuals that are, but not quite, friends, loved ones or even oneself can be somewhat unsettling." 

"Somewhat unsettling, is that one of Starfleet's requisite understatements?" she quipped, without any real humor. "He told me that in his universe I was dead and that I had been murdered." 

"I gathered as much." Sitting on the edge of his desk, Picard studied her carefully. "But that isn't what bothering you, is it?" 

Vash finally met his gaze, "It was a very bizarre experience, Jean-Luc. I knew he wasn't you, but in so many ways he was you. Physically, he looked, sounded, moved, and even smelled like you. Only, it was more than that. He had the same aura of power and masculine virility that is a part of your commanding presence." 

Finding her description a bit disconcerting, Picard fought down a brief twinge of modesty. After all, it was her perceptions that they were dealing with at the moment. He was beginning to surmise what was bothering her. "And you found yourself attracted to him? Was that what the mea culpa was about, you're attracted to him?" 

"Yes! All right, yes, I was attracted to him!" she blurted out, suddenly jumping up from the couch. As she spoke, she began to pace the room, highly agitated. "We've always had an intense sexual attraction between us and that purely physical aspect of our relationship was there. It was there in spades! Here was this exact genetic copy of you dressed like some desert sultan, and may I add you look damn sexy dressed that way. He's here to carry me off to be his prized concubine. We won't even go into the erotic connotations implicated in that particular scenario. Intuitively, he knew exactly how to touch me. Proving his point that I'm drawn to powerful men who wield absolute authority." 

The last was spoken with a catch in Vash's voice as she turned away to stare back out the window. Moving to stand behind her, Picard gently laid his hands on the feminine slope of her shoulders, "How does that make any of this your fault?" 

"Because, he wasn't you. He didn't have your nobility, wisdom, compassion, or your innate sense of justice. He didn't love me or my counterpart. He coveted a prize," she confessed, blinking back a tear. "I still found myself responding on an almost base level to this primal, Machiavellian version of you." 

"Chere, your reactions to him stem from your relationship with me," Picard whispered tenderly into her silky hair. 

She looked up in surprise over her shoulder at him. "You were so angry, I thought that . . ." 

"I was jealous? I may very well have reacted that way if I hadn't already experienced a similar response to another quantum reality's version of you. The feelings I have for you that she brought to the surface were so intense that I set out to purposely create the same conditions in this quantum reality after seeing us together in that other alternate reality," he admitted with a small self-deprecating smile. In a more serious tone, he continued, "I was angry with you for putting yourself at risk to protect me." 

"Jean-Luc, you do realize that is a completely chauvinistic double standard," she sighed, looking back out at the stars. 

"Yes, I do. Live with it," he stated flatly. Leaning down to her whisper in her ear, he offered in a deep, bedroom baritone, "I'll make a deal with you. I won't begrudge you your fantasies of the great sultan captain if you don't begrudge me my fantasies of a reality where a concubine version of you exists only to satisfy my every sexual desire." 

"And that would differ from this reality how?" Vash cooed seductively as she turned to face him. Her blue eyes sparkled impishly as they locked with his. As she pressed herself against him, she reached up with one hand and brushed her thumb sensuously over his lower lip. Cupping his head in her hands, she pulled his face to hers, capturing his mouth in a fiercely, passionate kiss. Her tongue stole between his parted lips to plunder the depths of the warm, moist cavern. 

Blood roared in Picard's ears as Vash's tongue continued to ravage his mouth. Every muscle in his body tightened with the surge of arousal that rushed through him. His arms slipped around her pulling her tightly against him. Her arms encircled his neck and she arched into him as he deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue past hers in his own erotic investigation of her mouth. 

Both of them were breathless when Vash finally broke the kiss. As she stared up into his intense grey eyes, she realized something. "You were already considering ways to come after me." 

"Of course I was. Even as my counterpart correctly pointed out that men go to war over women like you, he underestimated my own resolve. You're going to be my wife. Which reminds me, when they shut down the holodeck Lieutenant Barclay found something," he replied as he took her engagement ring out of a pocket inside his uniform jacket. Slipping the ring on her finger, he added, "I believe this belongs to you." 

She moved her hand, watching the light glint across the diamond. Smiling up at him, she whispered simply, "I love you." 

He caressed her cheek and, in a soft baritone replied "Je t'aime. And, chere, next time you want me to play a role in a production, may I suggest Lawrence of Arabia. I have it on good authority that I make a great desert chieftain." 

FINIS 


End file.
